


Ministry Business or Minister's Pleasure

by mxstyassasxin



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Cursed Child - Thorne & Rowling
Genre: Divorce, Eventual Smut, F/M, Getting Together, Height Differences, Minister for Magic Hermione Granger, Past Astoria Greengrass/Draco Malfoy, Past Character Death, Past Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Post-Harry Potter and the Cursed Child, Secret Relationship, Sexual Tension, Unspeakable Draco Malfoy, tol/smol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-01
Updated: 2020-07-01
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:28:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24950824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mxstyassasxin/pseuds/mxstyassasxin
Summary: When Minister For Magic Hermione Granger drops her children off at Kings Cross for another year at Hogwarts, she has two problems on her hands.One, her imminent divorce from another third of the Golden Trio and two, the fallout from her removal of funding for a certain blonde's research project.The first is a given: Her marriage just hasn't been the same since Hugo started Hogwarts, since the emptiness became much more obvious.The second though? Maybe she can use the free time she suddenly finds herself with to help in some way...
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 32
Kudos: 289
Collections: Dramione Height Difference  2020





	Ministry Business or Minister's Pleasure

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you Musyc for organising this height difference Dramione mini fest! I've had so much fun exploring this and challenging myself (partly by writing a 20k oneshot!) 
> 
> Also, a big thank you to [drarrymehome](https://archiveofourown.org/users/drarrymehome/pseuds/drarrymehome) for keeping me going with this, allowing me to bounce my Dramione ideas off you and for beta-ing when I was struggling (particularly for spotting all my horrible, unplanned tense changes).
> 
> For everyone who reads this, I really hope you like it and I'd love to know what you think! Either in a comment or on Tumblr under [@mxstyassasxin](https://mxstyassasxin.tumblr.com). 
> 
> Much love xx

**1 st September 2021 – Office of the Minister for Magic**

When Hermione finally sat down behind her desk, it seemed as though her day would not be improving any time soon. She could hear the raised, frustrated voice on the other side of the door demanding to see her, barely being restrained by the stern but soothing tones of Miranda, her trusted secretary of six years.

Merlin, bless her. She must have been holding the pompous prat back for hours, and Hermione was impressed that the two of them had managed to hold out against each other all day.

“Unspeakable, Sir, I can’t just let you storm into her office. The Minister is a very busy woman, as I’m sure you can understand. Please, take a seat and I shall let you know when she’s ready. She’s only just got back.”

Hermione groaned and dropped her head onto her arms where they were folded on top of her desk. She supposed Miranda couldn’t have held out forever.

“What do you mean she’s back? Granger!”

“That’s _Minister_ to you, Unspeakable,” Miranda sounded slightly flustered as the door was flung open by a furious Draco Malfoy who blocked the sudden light from the antechamber with his imposing frame. He’d always used his height to its full advantage and a shiver ran down Hermione’s spine as his shadow fell across her.

It wasn’t as though she hadn’t seen this confrontation coming ever since she’d had to make the devastating decision last Thursday. It was just pure luck that she’d managed to avoid him as they’d both been caught up in preparing their children for another year at Hogwarts.

Hermione had seen him just that morning, a few hours ago on Platform Nine and Three Quarters where he was dropping Scorpius off and she was saying her farewells to Rose and Hugo. As she’d pushed her children to say goodbye to Ron, Hermione had looked up along the platform and caught sight of Draco fixing his son’s robes and smoothing back his hair.

Just the two of them standing there had reminded Hermione that this was only the third time that Scorpius was leaving for school without his mother, and the sight was another kick in her stomach which was already twisted with guilt. She knew that the Department of Mysteries’ project she had defunded on Thursday was Draco’s and had something to do with the curse that Astoria had died from just two short years ago. It was the only reason he’d come to the Ministry as an Unspeakable about four years ago - to conduct valid research into her condition - and his employment had been kept quiet. But Hermione’s issue, as Minister, was that it just wasn’t viable to continue that project when there were no longer any instances of the curse in Britain.

It was one of the worst things she had found about being Minister. Making tough decisions about funding and knowing that each decision hurt more people than anyone could ever understand. She knew that it was adding to her 41 years.

Once the train had begun pulling away from the station, parents and siblings waving after it, Hermione had seen Draco begin to make his way towards her. He weaved his way between the crowd, his blonde head easily visibly above it, marching determinedly through the steam that had pooled around their ankles. His silver eyes stared into her soul as he gradually cleared a path between them and Hermione had been so sure that the guilt she felt was evident on her face but, before Draco could reach her, Ron had stepped in front of her and blocked her view.

“Well, shall we?” He’d said gruffly before grabbing hold of her elbow and apparating them both to the lobby of their lawyer’s office.

They had told Rose and Hugo that they were separating a few days ago and she had been so proud of their children for the way they had handled that conversation. She’d been even prouder that morning at the station, especially since they knew it would be the last time their parents would drop them off for the train together. Or at least as a married couple since she had already agreed with Ron that they would continue to stand strong as a parenting unit.

Hugo had been upset but accepted their decision once they had explained it. Rose had been Hermione’s daughter through and through, completely and utterly logical, blunt with them almost to the point that her words made Hermione wince.

The long meeting that she had just sat through with Ron had been tougher to deal with. Hermione thought it would be easy, that the way her brain operated would make it a logical process. But the discussion had covered so many variables and they had made so many decisions that her brain was hurting. She also felt so dirty from some of them - from seeing the look on Ron’s face as she had put her foot down a few times - that she wished she could have just returned home and had a long, hot bath. Unfortunately, there were still three hours of the workday remaining and she could not afford to waste it after spending the morning getting the children to the station and the past few hours conducting personal business with Ron and their lawyer.

Hermione had hoped, when she flooed directly to her office, that she would be able to sit down at her desk with a nice cup of cinnamon tea, fill her office with Debussy, and continue with her Ministerial approvals, providing a slice of normality ahead of informing every one about their divorce at the Burrow later. She had hoped that Draco Malfoy would leave it until tomorrow to attack her about the removal of funds.

Apparently, she had no such luck.

“I’m really not in the mood today, Draco,” she groaned into her desk, refusing to lift her head from her arms despite how unprofessional she knew it looked.

“ _You’re_ not in the mood?” She heard him ask through gritted teeth before the door slammed shut, presumably in Miranda’s shocked face.

Hermione smirked at the image in her head and then realised that Draco had faltered, halting his attack before it had even begun.

“Why in Merlin’s name are you sat in the dark?” he asked confusedly.

“Because I’ve literally just got back from a very draining meeting and wanted some peace and quiet.”

Hermione lifted her head to glare in his direction and realised just how dark her office was.

“You’re welcome to cast a _lumos_ if you must,” she waved a hand half-heartedly at him and, a second later, a soft glow wordlessly filled the room.

She realised that Draco was not stood near the door as she had assumed. Instead, she had to look up from her desk, squinting in the new light until his face, fury etched into it, came into focus. She sat up straight in her wing-backed chair as he towered over her desk, still in the dark suit he had been wearing at the station, all long, clean lines, broad shoulders and trim waist that was emphasised by the waistcoat visible beneath the matching jacket. He pressed his palms into the toughened leather that topped her desk and, as he leant towards her, she noted that the smell of steam still clung to the material.

The fury she had seen briefly on his face had disappeared during her onceover of him and his sly mask had returned, the only visible sign of his agitation was the wisps of pale hair that had come loose from his usually impeccable braid.

“I don’t care if you’re not in the mood, _Minister,_ ” she sneered her title. “I dropped my son off at the Hogwarts Express today for only the third time without his mother, the second since we buried her. I’m sure you noticed the look on his face.”

Hermione nodded, guilt flooding her body again, twisting around her organs.

“How am I supposed to tell him, Astoria’s sweet boy, that the cure I have spent half his life developing is never going to exist now because _his mother died.”_ Draco raised his voice making Hermione flinch inwardly.

“Screw anyone else in the world who might suffer the same curse,” he threw his hands up in the air and slammed them back down on her desk. “Is that it, Granger? Just a big _eff you_ to them?”

Hermione pushed herself out of her chair, glowering at him, and manoeuvred around the end of her desk until she was right in front of him, immediately regretting that she had kicked her heels off under the desk earlier. Those extra few inches would have really helped her out.

“I could still put you on probation for the development of that time-turner, Malfoy,” she snarled as she pointed a scolding finger up underneath his chin. “So, don’t you dare get short with me about this.”

Hermione glared as Draco’s lips pressed together in a thin line and he raised a single eyebrow, looking down at her. She spotted the amused twinkle in his eyes just before he burst into loud guffaws.

“Stop it, Draco. Don’t you dare!” she shouted at him indignantly.

“Short, Granger?” he choked out between the laughter. “ _I’m_ getting short, am I?”

Hermione picked up a stack of parchment from her desk and began hitting him in the chest with it while he continued to laugh.

“Oh, stop it, would you?” She groaned, exasperated, as hitting him seemed not to have any effect whatsoever.

“Alright, alright,” Draco said, taking deep breaths until he calmed down, and then sat in the visitor’s chair at her desk, motioning that Hermione should resume her own seat.

She narrowed her eyes at him for ordering her around in her own office but shook her head and took her seat anyways, removing her wand from the pocket sewn specially inside her robes and lighting the lamp on her desk as she did so. Draco followed the motion and quirked an eyebrow as she slid her wand back into the customised pocket.

Hermione laced her fingers together on top of her desk and waited for him to begin the conversation afresh.

“I apologise, Minister, for my behaviour,” he smiled charmingly at her. “I’m sure an intelligent woman with two glorious children like yourself can understand my position.”

“Get your head out of my arse, Draco. It doesn’t suit you,” Hermione grinned back at him causing him to chuckle slightly in response.

“You do understand though,” she continued, “that in my position, I have to make difficult decisions like this. That the Ministry only has a certain budget and I am the one responsible for where those funds are diverted and allocated, even if I don’t like it.”

“Of course I do, Granger. I’ve invested enough over the years to understand those kinds of decisions.”

Draco paused for a second and let out a long sigh, looking down at his hands in his lap where he was twisting his wedding band around his finger.

“Can I at least carry on the project myself? Just, hear me out,” he continued hurriedly when Hermione went to speak. “I’ll instruct my assistants to move on to other projects and I’ll continue researching this one myself. I won’t even make it a priority, but don’t halt it completely.”

Hermione could see him studying her face for any hint as to what she was thinking.

“You don’t even have to pay me for it and we both know it’s the only reason I came on board as an Unspeakable in the first place. I’ve spent so long on this. Please, Granger, don’t throw it away.”

Hermione couldn’t stop her eyes from widening as Draco Malfoy of all people pleaded with her for something. After studying the sincerity in his expression for a moment, she closed her eyes and, letting a sigh escape her lips, she ever so slightly inclined her head to him, giving her ascent.

When she opened her eyes again, his eyes were sparkling and his smile actually showed his perfectly white teeth.

“Thank you, Minister. Thank you,” he reached across the desk and grasped one of her slender hands between his larger ones, squeezing gently with his platinum wedding band scraping her gold one.

“You’ll still get your salary, but the project is still defunded, Draco,” Hermione met his eyes carefully, ensuring he could see the kindness in them. “Any resources you might need, any resources that aren’t already in your lab…” she trailed off and Draco nodded his understanding.

“Of course. I understand.”

**Later that day – The Burrow**

“Sorry I’m late, sorry I’m late!” Hermione shouted as she stepped from the fireplace and made her way through to the kitchen, still dressed in the royal blue robes and skirt suit that she had been wearing all day, her controlled curls beginning to frizz where they framed her face.

It had been a standing appointment for a few years now that every September 1st, the suddenly child-free parents of the Weasley clan converged on the Burrow and enjoyed a good catchup over Molly Weasley’s cooking and quite a few bottles of Butterbeer. When Hermione took the empty seat opposite Ron, everyone paused in their eating, drinking and conversation to chorus their _hellos_ , and their _about times_ , and their _nice to see yous._ Everyone, that is, except Ron who narrowed his eyes at her in silent accusation.

“I got caught up in a proposal that Magical Transport sent me. I’d missed it coming in this morning and Miranda thankfully asked me what I’d thought about it.”

She picked up a bottle and thanked Molly as the matriarch passed her a plate of roast chicken with all the trimmings, turning to listen to Percy as he asked for her opinions on his team’s most recent proposal. Throughout the entire conversation, she could feel Ron’s glare boring a hole into the side of her head.

As soon as Hermione set her knife and fork together on her empty plate, Ron tapped his dessert spoon on the side of his third, possibly fourth, bottle and stood up, clearing his throat. This time, it was Hermione who narrowed her eyes, irritated by the way he was acting. His annoyance at her was frustrating because Hermione’s lateness due to a work matter was nothing new. The Ministry coming first was one of the reasons for the collapse of their marriage and everyone in the family was used to Hermione’s dedication by now.

She rested her forearms on the table either side of her plate and flexed her fingers before clenching her fists, glaring questioningly at Ron as he tried to get her to stand as well. When it became clear that she was not going to, and that she was quietly fuming about the way he’d decided to handle this conversation, Ron stuffed his hands in his pockets and looked around at his family who were all staring at him expectantly.

“Umm, right,” he began to mumble, clearly out of his comfort zone and Hermione sighed, taking pity on him. As she stood, Ron smiled shyly at her, expressing his thanks. They were in this together after all.

“Me and Hermione, we’ve decided to separate. We’re getting a divorce.”

Hermione reached across the table and squeezed Ron’s hand in solidarity as the chatter started up around them. Through the din of all the Weasleys – minus Charlie - and their spouses, Hermione could hear Molly’s protests the clearest.

“But you can’t. The children. You can’t split the family up. What will happen? How will they cope? Oh heavens. Ronald Weasley, what have you done?”

“Molly. _Molly_ ,” Hermione tried calming her. “The children know. We’ve already talked to them about it and they coped brilliantly.”

Molly blinked a few times as she focused her soft brown eyes on Hermione, finding the truth of her statement written on her face.

“They’re so strong, that’s good. That’s good,” Molly repeated resolutely.

“Mum,” Ron started, “it’s what’s best. We’re both still going to be there for the kids, and we aren’t going to start avoiding each other.”

“Rose and Hugo are what our lives boil down to now, they’re all that matter to us so we wouldn’t do anything to cause them distress.”

Hermione looked at the various expressions on the rest of the faces around the table and went back to her own seat.

“Come on then, ask your questions.”

**7 th September – The Ministry**

Hermione nodded to the various ministry workers who made way for her upon hearing the sharp clack of her stilettos on the marble tiles, greeting her as she passed.

She had done plenty of thinking over the weekend, by herself in the house for the first time in what felt like a long time. They had packed some of Ron’s things into trunks equipped with expansion and featherlight charms and he’d moved temporarily into the guest room at Grimmauld Place. He wanted to get Harry’s opinion on the flat that he had chosen just off Diagon Alley before putting money down on it.

Ron had shown her the flat already. They had agreed that she should keep the cottage because it was still the perfect base for their family and they didn’t want to disrupt the children’s lives that much, but Ron also wanted to make sure that he was doing the right thing with this flat and that it was a good place for Rose and Hugo to visit and stay at whenever they wanted to.

Hermione had thought it was perfect.

On Saturday, she had relished in the quiet emptiness of the cottage, giving it a good clean, changing the bedding and reorganising her wardrobe, preparing it for the shopping spree that Ginny would eventually insist on taking her on. But, when that was done, she was left twiddling her thumbs.

She wrote to Rose and Hugo at Hogwarts, asking about their first few days back and regaling them with what had happened at dinner on Wednesday. She responded to the few memos that had come directly to the house that morning, but there were only a few people other than herself, who didn’t leave work at the office on a Friday night.

Miranda, a few years earlier, had banned Hermione from the Ministry during weekends - aside from emergencies or planned occasions - after she had entered the office on Monday mornings to find Hermione sleeping at her desk one too many times. If it hadn’t been for that rule, Hermione would have gone into the office but, as it was, she settled for conducting as much research as she could on the unsettled proposals from home.

It wasn’t as though the cottage was low on books.

On Sunday, when she had come across a passage about blood curses in a book she was reading for something entirely unrelated, Hermione had found herself wondering how Draco’s research had been going until she’d removed the funds for his project. It was one of the annoying things about the Department of Mysteries. She found their work so interesting but rarely knew much about the projects apart from the basics, and even _that_ was privileged information only granted to her because of her role as Minister.

Hermione had abandoned the research she’d been doing and began looking into blood curses similar to the malediction she knew Astoria had suffered from. It was unlikely that she would come up with anything that Draco didn’t already know, but she wanted to begin to understand. It was her fault that he was now working without funds and without his assistants, leaving Hermione as one of the only people that he could literally talk about the project with. If he tried to talk to anyone about his work who had not been keyed into it, his chest would contract and he would get a horrific headache. The same went for Hermione if she decided to speak about a Mysteries project to anyone other than the Unspeakables working on it.

It was safe to say that she was still feeling unbearably guilty about the decision she had made, knowing how important and personal the research had been to Draco. Which was why, after two days of background research into his project, she was making her way down the dark marble hallways towards the Department of Mysteries.

She knocked on the main door and met the wide eyes of the Unspeakable who opened it, surprised to see the Minister standing there.

“Good afternoon, ma’am. I didn’t think, I mean, we don’t have a review scheduled for another two months. Do we?” he stuttered nervously.

“Stand down, Unspeakable,” Hermione smiled kindly at the young man. “Could you escort me to Unspeakable Malfoy’s laboratory, please?”

She followed the young wizard through the twists and turns of the department, glad that she did not have to come down here often and that there was always an Unspeakable on hand to guide her through the complex maze. The confusing labyrinth still brought back memories of fifth year and she rubbed her hand reassuringly across her chest beneath the soft wool of her robes as she remembered taking Dolohov’s curse.

Finally, they stood before an emerald green door that caused Hermione to quietly scoff as the Unspeakable cracked it open and announced her.

“To what do I owe the honour, Madam Minister,” Draco raised an eyebrow at her after she closed the door behind her.

He stood next to a stool that he had undoubtedly been sat on before she had interrupted his work and she rolled her eyes, motioning that he should resume his seat.

“Formalities won’t be necessary, Draco. I’m here to offer my help… If you want it, that is.”

This time, it was Draco who scoffed.

“Still feeling guilty, Granger?” he asked, and she swallowed the truth, although she was positive that it was evident on her face.

“I don’t expect your help and I don’t want your pity, so I’ll just call that Unspeakable back and you can go back to whatever Minister-ing you have planned for the rest of the day.” Draco stood again and had begun making his way towards the door.

Hermione turned on the spot when he passed her but made no move to follow, only stopping him when his hand was wrapped around the doorknob.

“Wait, Draco. I _want_ to help. I started some research over the weekend…”

“Of course, you did,” she heard Draco mutter under his breath.

“…and I realised that you’ll need someone to talk to about it, at least to bounce ideas off of, and you know that I’m one of the few people you can actually speak with about your work.”

“I am perfectly fine working by myself, Granger. I doubt that you would have much time anyway. The office of the Minister must be a busy one,” he said snidely but she ignored his tone and answered him anyway.

“It is, but with Rose and Hugo back at Hogwarts, I find myself with an empty house and some extra time on my hands.” Hermione resolutely crossed her arms over her chest and raised her chin, standing as tall as it was possible for her to do so.

Draco let go of the doorknob, turned to face her properly and mirrored her stance, the crossing of his arms making his work robes stretch across his broad shoulders.

“And Weasley? Surely your husband would prefer that your free time was spent together.”

Hermione found herself flushing and couldn’t help but look down at the slate tiles that formed the cold floor of his laboratory.

“Ron has moved out. We’ve begun divorce proceedings,” she murmured, looking back up at Draco once the confession had passed her lips to see that he was suddenly slack-jawed and blinking bewilderedly.

The uncommon expression, at least on Draco Malfoy’s face, made Hermione chuckle slightly.

“I’d actually just returned from a long negotiation with our lawyer when you barged into my office last week.”

Draco took a couple of hurried steps towards her and reached out as if to place a comforting hand on her shoulder, but Hermione saw him catch his own action and drop his arms awkwardly to his sides, swaying slightly as he came to a sudden stop a few feet from her. It was still close enough that she had to look up to meet his eyes.

“I’m truly sorry, Granger,” he whispered.

Hermione was quick to wave off his apology.

“No need. The decision was amicable enough. We just realised that, when Hugo started at Hogwarts, we still found no time for each other, whereas the other couples we know relished in their empty houses. I was at work most of the time and Ron was at the shop. The evenings where I would actually get home on time, it would be a quiet meal, a few facts shared about our days, and then sleep.”

“Everyone thought the two of you were inseparable. The couple that everyone looked up to,” Draco smirked sadly, and Hermione scoffed.

“Really? I thought that would have been Harry and Ginny.”

“Not a chance,” Draco shook his head. “You two are more relatable, what, with the whole never having died and survived murder twice, despite being _The_ _Golden Couple; hope after war_.”

Hermione laughed at Draco’s sarcasm as he quoted the Prophet’s go-to headline and the two of them shared a nervous smile.

“I suppose,” she agreed, “but then we also had the problems that normal couples have too. Our marriage became all about work and the children, so when one of them disappeared, it became more obvious.”

Draco studied her for a minute until Hermione felt the need to start fidgeting, turning her wedding band around on her finger. He noticed the movement with a twitch of his eye but then smiled at her, summoning two stools from across the room for them to sit on. He stretched his long legs out in front of him, crossing them casually at the ankles where the deep emerald of his socks could now be seen in the slight gap between his tailored charcoal trousers and his patent black oxfords. Hermione, on the other hand, tried not to let her dislike for sitting on stools show. She sat up straight, wrapped her right foot behind her left ankle and tried her best to maintain balance when only the toe of her left stiletto was grazing the floor.

“If you’re certain you have the time, Granger, I wouldn’t mind the help,” Draco conceded, resuming their conversation in his familiar drawl. “At least I know you’re actually interested in the project. You’re still just that know-it-all from school, aren’t you?”

His voice was teasing but his expression was surprisingly soft, and Hermione found that she didn’t feel any insult in his words at all. Instead, she felt complimented and respected.

“It’s who I am, and that’s not changing any time soon.”

“I would expect nothing less, Granger,” Draco smirked. “Do you have time now? I can try and catch you up with the past four years of research.”

“My afternoon is empty as long as my secretary doesn’t find out where I am,” Hermione laughed, and Draco raised a questioning eyebrow at her. “I’m completely serious. I have no meetings and the paperwork can wait, despite what Miranda thinks. This is all I’d be able to think about anyway so you’re doing me a favour.”

**19 th September – The Burrow**

All Hermione could think about as she sat at the table in the Burrow, listening to her friends and family make idle chatter, was how close she felt her and Draco had been getting to a breakthrough over the past week or so. She itched to be getting back to the books, back to the lab to test out a few theories that seemed just out of reach. Every morning she woke up with an idea, a lightbulb moment that flickered dimmer and dimmer as she began getting ready for work. It was frustrating.

But, after spending the majority of her lunch breaks and evenings on the project, relishing in the opportunity to work on something away from her desk, Draco had insisted that he didn’t want Hermione doing any research this weekend, especially not today.

“Your family are important, Granger,” he had said firmly on Friday evening, leaning over her from across the workbench. “They want to celebrate with you so, for the love of Merlin, let them and actually give yourself a few days off.”

With an exasperated flick of her wand, she had _finited_ the diagnostic charm she’d been running on a recent variation of Draco’s potion and slipped it back into the concealed pocket inside her robes. She had noticed how, once again, Draco’s eyes followed the motion and the corner of his mouth twitched. He’d been doing that a lot recently and generally seemed more intrigued by where she kept her wand than he had in her use of muggle fountain pens.

Ginny had kept her distracted on Saturday with the shopping spree that Hermione had been expecting, which had really been an excuse to quiz her about the split from Ron. She was adamant that there had to be more to it, that Ron was at fault somehow, and Hermione spent most of the day reassuring her that there had been nothing untoward happening to end their marriage. When she wasn’t defending Ron to his younger sister, she was also reassuring Ginny that hell would have to freeze over before she ever wore _that_ dress. She had come to accept that some things that suited Ginny’s lithe, slim, long legged body, were just horrendous on Hermione’s petite, curvaceous one.

After talking Ginny away from a few options that were definitely _not_ Hermione, she’d settled on an outfit for her birthday dinner at the Burrow. Molly had gone all out as she usually did for a celebration, so everyone had made more of an effort. Hermione wore an off-the-shoulder green dress that Ginny said offset her olive skin, chestnut hair and brown eyes perfectly. It wasn’t often that she wore green, but she had loved the soft feel of the material and the way the sleeves widened down to her wrists. She felt truly magical in it and, when she was wearing her heels, the hem of the bias-cut, A-line skirt fell nicely for once to her mid-calf, a split in the material giving just a glimpse of her tanned thigh. 

“That’ll show my brother what he’s missing,” Ginny had grinned slyly, seeing Hermione fully dolled up in her chosen outfit for the first time earlier that day.

“I don’t want him to see what he’s missing, Gin. This is purely for me. I feel good. _Really good._ ”

Ginny had kissed her on the cheek and then apparated the two of them into the Burrow’s living room where all her friends and family crowded around her with their congratulations. Arthur had pressed a glass of wine into her hand along with his congratulation and then raised his own in a toast to her.

Hermione had blushed furiously but sipped her drink and, when she set it down on the mantlepiece, Molly and Ginny guided her over to the sofa where they began piling an endless amount of gifts onto her lap. With a family as large as the Weasleys had become, the number of presents were inevitable. The younger family members had mostly sent her chocolates, with Teddy and Vic gifting her a vineyard’s vintage that they had brought back from a recent trip to see Gabrielle in France. Other gifts included clothing, stationery and books. Always so many books. Ginny, having seen her buy the dress she was wearing, had also sneakily purchased a simple diamond drop jewellery set in gold settings which rendered Hermione speechless for a long while.

“Gin, it’s gorgeous. Thank you,” she pulled her friend into a fierce hug.

“No need to crush me, it’s technically from Harry too. Hug him.”

“I’m quite willing to say that this was all down to my wonderful wife. I had nothing to do with it,” Harry grinned at the two of them.

Hermione would never get tired of seeing Harry’s smile finally reach his eyes, especially after the renewed panic they had gone through the previous year.

Once all the gifts had been opened and Arthur had brought another round of drinks out, Molly herded them all through to the kitchen table which was covered in a spread to rival dinners at Hogwarts. It had been utterly delicious, and Hermione had even allowed herself a rare second helping of dessert as it was just too difficult to choose between tiramisu and sticky toffee pudding. It was somewhere during her second dessert that she lost focus on the conversations around her and her thoughts turned back to blood curses and the research that sat in a laboratory in the depths of the Ministry.

She was pulled out of her reverie by Molly calling her name, accompanied by a familiar tapping noise that nudged at the corners of her consciousness.

“Hermione? Hermione, dear. I think there’s an owl for you.”

She blinked a few times and looked around the table to find everyone looking at her apart from Harry and, following his narrowed gaze, she saw a very impressive eagle owl resting on the kitchen windowsill, tapping at the glass.

“Oh,” she breathed, blushing slightly. “My apologies everyone, I must have been elsewhere.”

Hermione stood from the table and approached the unfamiliar owl cautiously, but it hooted softly at her and lifted its foot which had a package wrapped in brown leather attached to it. She leant over the kitchen counter and pulled the window open, shocked when, instead of just offering her it’s leg, the rather large owl unfurled its wings and hopped up onto her shoulder, the unexpected weight making her knees buckle.

“’Mione!” Ron shouted, causing the owl to spread its wings almost protectively over her.

“It’s alright, I’m fine,” she reassured Ron and the rest of the Weasley/Potter clan before turning her head towards the large owl. “You’re just a big sweetie aren’t you,” she told it, stroking its soft plumage with her knuckles.

“Are you going to give me that parcel?” Hermione asked it, holding her hand out flat and grinning, when the owl stuck out the leg with the parcel attached for Hermione to untie. “Thank you, darling.”

As the owl did not appear to be going anywhere anytime soon, Hermione resumed her seat at the table, with the owl still on her shoulder, and proceeded to unwrap the leather. She resolutely ignored the fact that Harry continued to glare at the eagle owl.

Between the first folds of leather, Hermione found a short note, unsigned but in an elegant script that she had seen enough of recently to identify the sender.

_I hope you find this small gesture befitting a good friend and Minister on her birthday._

Hermione set the note in her lap and gulped, looking at the parcel and then raising her gaze to where Harry was sat across the table. Suddenly, the way he was looking at the owl made much more sense and Hermione wondered if anyone else would make the connection. She couldn’t even remember if she had mentioned helping Draco with his research to anyone, but surely, she must have said something over the past few weeks, even if briefly.

She slowly unfolded the rest of the leather to reveal a beautiful arm holster, the black leather cut so intricately and ingrained with silver, that it was delicate as well as impressive, striking as well as elegant. It took her breath away and she heard Ginny breath a soft _wow_ from where she sat on her right.

Hermione traced her fingertips over the leather and the patterns it made, and thought it was one of the most gorgeous things she had ever seen.

“Well,” Ginny nudged her lightly so that she only slightly rustled the owl on Hermione’s shoulder. “Put it on.”

Hermione let out a shuddering breath and pushed up the sleeve of her dress to wrap the cool leather around her left forearm, stifling a sob when she realised that it fully covered the scar Bellatrix had given her. It truly didn’t surprise her that it fit perfectly because she knew that Draco would not have done something like this by halves. He’d have paid enough attention to be able to customise it and, if their time spent researching had taught Hermione anything, it was that he could be just as obsessed with details as she was.

“I don’t think I’ve ever received anything like this before,” she whispered to Ginny, still staring at the holster.

“That has to be custom made.” Ginny sounded just as awed as Hermione did.

“I know.”

Their admiration of Draco’s gift was interrupted by Ron’s scoff from further down the table.

“What use is that? You’re not an Auror so you don’t need an arm holster and you already get Madam Malkin to sew pockets into your robes to stow your wand anyways.”

“Shut up, Ron,” Ginny snapped at her brother. “It’s not all about necessity.”

“Let’s see it with your wand in, Aunt Hermione?” Victoire spoke up to prevent her Aunt and Uncle descending into a shouting match.

“Right. Yes,” Hermione uttered. “It’s in my robes. Gin?” She asked her friend to go fetch her wand, due in part to the owl still perched on her shoulder.

“See, Ron? This is exactly why she might need an arm holster,” Ginny couldn’t resist shooting at Ron as she left the table, returning a few seconds later with Hermione’s vine-wood wand held carefully in her hands.

Hermione felt the familiar hum of magic as she took it in her grasp and was pleased to find that the feeling stayed within her as she slipped it into the holster. It didn’t dim as it would when she put it away in her robes.

“This is amazing,” she sighed, tracing the patterns of the cut leather again and realising with a jolt that they mirrored the twisting vines on her wand perfectly.

“That is certainly some customisation,” Fleur said thoughtfully. “It shows something very serious.”

“Don’t be silly,” Hermione protested. “It’s just a nice, thoughtful gift.”

“Fleur is right, Hermione. This is quite significant,” Molly cautioned.

“They’re just grateful for my help with something,” she reasoned, meeting Molly’s worried eyes. “Nothing to get wound up about, Molly.”

She saw Molly and Fleur exchange a look but decided to ignore it. They could think whatever they wanted. Hermione knew the truth.

“Did _they_ gift you the owl as well?” Harry asked pointedly, eyes still narrowed at the proud bird on Hermione’s shoulder.

“No, I’m sure it’s just waiting for a response and I’ll write one in a bit. Molly, do you mind if I take some owl treats?”

“Left cupboard by the window, love.”

“Come on you,” Hermione brushed the owl’s feathers again. “Do you want some treats while you wait?”

X – X – X

“This is a meagre thank you, Granger,” Draco teased the next day when he sauntered into her office, the reply she had eventually sent to him held in his grasp.

“I was with the Weasleys and everyone,” she resisted the temptation to stick her tongue out at him, but her cheeks flushed slightly pink.

“I figured as much which is why I left the note unsigned. Didn’t know if you had told them about our research and didn’t want to cause trouble.”

“Honestly, I don’t remember if I have or not,” Hermione smiled sheepishly. “In any case, I’m pretty sure Harry figured you out.”

“Potter figuring things out? Wonders will never cease.”

“That is our Head of DMLE you’re talking about, Draco. He’s perfectly capable of figuring things out, thank you very much.”

The two of them glared at each other a moment until Draco suddenly grinned at her and moved to lounge across the sofa beneath the enchanted window, currently showing a fluttering image of the Tuscan countryside which she had enjoyed a few times since spending her honeymoon there.

“It was your owl that did it. He must remember your penchant for eagle owls from Hogwarts. They’re not that common you know,” she smirked across the room at him.

“Ah. He didn’t say anything did he?”

“Not a word. Just kept his eyes narrowed at it the whole time it was perched on my shoulder.”

“He what?” Draco sounded suddenly alarmed and moved to stand behind Hermione so quickly that it made her head spin. “Leontes didn’t hurt you, did he?” Draco murmured, ghosting his fingers over her shoulders.

“What?” Hermione turned her head, craning her neck to look up at Draco, pushing the owl’s unusual name to the back of her mind, categorising it as a coincidence. “No, he was perfect, slightly heavy but then he is an eagle owl. He was actually quite sweet, protective almost.”

“That was my fault, I’m sorry,” Draco said, brushing his thumb lightly over her pulse point as he met her eyes. “I told him to look after you if anyone said anything.”

“Draco,” Hermione chuckled nervously, and he removed his hands, taking a step back from her.

“May I see it?” he said after clearing his throat, nodding towards her left arm which was still covered by the plum robes she had been required to wear in the Wizengamot that morning.

“Of course,” Hermione agreed, pushing her sleeve up past her elbow and presenting her forearm to him.

Draco smiled and nodded as he appraised it, pleased with himself if Hermione interpreted the smug look correctly.

“And it fits comfortably?”

“Perfectly, Draco. How…” Hermione began to ask but Draco beat her to it.

“Limited extension charm on the notch to fit your wand, I guessed between 10 and 11 inches. Means your wand can sit in there securely without getting in the way. It also has an impervious charm on it and the silver will reflect and enhance your magic.”

“I’ve noticed,” Hermione told him, wordlessly summoning her research from the filing cabinet in the far corner of her office.

She stood from her comfortable wing-backed chair with the folio of parchment held in front of her chest and looked at the precise knot of Draco’s tie in her eye-line.

“Thank you, it is an incredibly beautiful gift. Now,” she tapped her fingers against the parchment. “Shall we?”

**2 nd October – Hermione’s Cottage**

“Draco, I thought we agreed that wasn’t going to work?” Hermione groaned, running her hands through her hair for the countless time that day.

They’d made quite a bit of progress over the past two weeks, but Saturday had led them to a frustrating standstill. For a change of scenery, they had decided to abandon Draco’s laboratory to look back over their notes at the cottage where Hermione could keep them plied with as much tea as they wanted – Earl Grey and lemon for Draco, cinnamon for herself. She had been hoarding all the books that she could find on the topic since she’d joined Draco in his research, trawling through the bookshops and magical artefact stores of wizarding Britain, so there was plenty of material for them to cross-reference at the cottage. However, Draco had also made a detour via the Manor to collect the necessary books from his own extensive collection.

Every surface of the living and dining rooms was covered in pieces of parchment, scrolls and books. They littered the floor, the sofa, the coffee table, the dining table and Hermione was sat cross-legged in the middle of it all, in a small space she had carved out on the carpet.

She was beginning to tear her hair out.

When Draco had come through the floo directly from the Manor, using the address Hermione had scribbled quickly onto a departmental memo, he’d stood stock still for a moment, staring at her with wide eyes as he absorbed the sight of _Hermione Granger; The Homebody_.

As soon as she knew that they would be holed up in the house for the rest of the day, Hermione had let her hair loose from the charm that had been holding it in a tight chignon, allowing her curls to fall down around her face. She’d also changed out of the restrictive wool robes and into black leggings and a blue hoodie that was baggy on her small frame, covering her to mid-thigh. The sleeves were rolled up at the cuffs so that her hands were free to conduct their research.

“But if we mixed it with powdered asphodel root, it would alter the properties and might give us a shot,” Draco called back from the dining table, insistent that they should at least test it out.

“The asphodel will always react negatively with the cursed blood though. I’m sure we already tried this,” Hermione began shuffling through the books of notes that she had made over the past month of research, organised in chronological order.

“The potion is just one part of it, Granger. You’re supposed to be focusing on the incantation. I’ll figure it out,” Draco reassured her, trying to divert her back to her own topic of focus.

“No, it’s alright. I know it’s in my notes somewhere.”

She heard Draco move from the table and lean against the frame of the double doors that separated the living and dining area, knocking one of the doors against the papered walls. Hermione determinedly ignored the gaze she could feel on the back of her head as she searched through her notes for what she was looking for, but her eyes settled on the word _bezoar_ instead, and her fingers paused in shuffling through the pages.

“Draco, what if we could suspend a bezoar in the potion somehow or create a charmed amulet from one?” she sat back on her haunches and turned to look at him. “Would a bezoar even help?”

“I have no idea where that’s come from in that brain of yours,” he smiled at her. “I know one of my assistants looked into them early on, but I can’t remember where we went with it.”

Hermione grinned with a renewed focus and went back to flicking through the piles of books and parchments, only briefly registering the knock at the front door and Draco telling her that he’d get it so that she didn’t interrupt her train of thought.

“Umm, Granger!” she heard him call cautiously a moment later, followed by another familiar voice that sent a shiver down her spine and made her bolt for the door before either of them could start firing hexes.

“Hermione! What the bloody hell is this? Why is that _ferret_ in my house?”

“Not your house any more though is it, Weasley?” Draco sneered at Ron whose face was getting redder by the second.

“Draco,” Hermione cautioned reaching up to set a hand on his shoulder as she came to stand beside him.

He looked down at her, his silver eyes softening, but Hermione noticed that Ron’s eyes almost bulged out of his head at the gesture.

“Ron, calm down. It’s not… I’m helping him with something I can’t talk about,” Hermione tried to explain, removing her hand from Draco’s shoulder but grazing her fingers reassuringly down his shirt sleeve as she did so, hoping that he knew she was not expecting him to leave. 

“What day is it, Hermione?” Ron bit through his teeth. “What _time_?”

She turned to look at the grandfather clock ticking away in the corner of the hall and realisation struck her.

“Oh, sweet Circe,” her head whipped back round to face Ron. “I’m so sorry, Ron. I…”

“Save it, ‘Mione. I was sat, waiting for you at the café for an entire hour, worrying for _one whole hour_ while you’ve been shacking up with Malfoy!”

“We haven’t been…” Draco tried to cut in, reverting to his Malfoy drawl but Ron held a hand up in his face.

“If you wanted to make a point of how dumb I am, ‘Mione, well _bravo_. Never in a million years, did I think…” he trailed off shaking his head and Hermione tried cutting in again, stepping in front of Draco.

“I’m just helping him with some research…”

“If you’re going to run off with the likes of him before the papers are even signed,” Ron jumped in as though he hadn’t heard Hermione speak, “then I’m not signing them. For our children’s sakes.”

He crossed his arms and stared resolutely at Hermione whose jaw had dropped and left her speechless. They were so close to completing the paperwork with just one more meeting to go, scheduled with their lawyer for Tuesday. He couldn’t. They’d agreed.

While Hermione stood there at a loss for words, Draco stepped so close behind her that she could almost feel his heart thundering with fury. He towered over her, filling any gaps in the open doorway that had allowed Ron to see down the hallway and into the house. Hermione could feel the tension rolling off him, hear the low grumble in his chest right by her ear. She worried for a moment that Draco was outraged at how Ron still thought of him after all he had done to right his wrongs and live a normal life despite Astoria’s death and the rumours that had plagued their family.

Instead, it seemed that his outrage was on her behalf and that Draco was brewing his defence of her, holding himself tall so that he still seemed to be looking down on Ron despite their closeness in height. Ron had always slumped rather than drawing himself up, so Draco was able to use his height and the broadness of his chest and shoulders to intimidate a lanky Ron.

“I wouldn’t go any further if I were you, Weasley,” he said sharply, speaking over her head with a dangerous tone to his voice. “Granger is her own woman and can damn well do as she pleases. She is the Minister for Magic for crying out loud! I’m quite sure you’re aware that there will be things in her life more important than coffee,” he sneered the final word as though it, and Ron by extension, was beneath him.

Ron blinked, disbelieving, between the two of them as they stood blocking the doorway.

“More important?” he whispered, and then louder. “More important!? The _ferret_ is more important than us keeping each other updated about work and the children?”

Draco bristled at that insinuation and almost growled. Hermione knew that he was very much aware of just how much her children meant to her, because he was exactly the same. Scorpius meant the world to him just as Rose and Hugo meant the world to her.

“Ron, for the last time,” Hermione spoke clearly and pointedly. “I am helping Draco with some research for an important project he’s been focused on that I had to cut the funding for. It is my fault he’s got no assistants anymore so I’m helping him out. I literally cannot tell you any more than that because it’s Mysteries business.”

“And that makes it okay does it, ‘Mione?”

“There would be nothing wrong with me spending time with Draco, no matter what for,” she replied immediately, feeling Draco relax slightly behind her.

“I meant,” Ron gritted through his teeth, clearly not pleased with that answer. “Does it make missing our pre-arranged meeting without a word, okay?”

“I’m sorry,” Hermione sighed. “Really, I am. But I got caught up in the research. You know me, Ron,” she pleaded. “How many times has something like that happened before? It’s one of the reasons we’re getting a divorce in the first place. I keep disappointing you and putting work first.”

Ron looked as though he was going to protest that, but Hermione just shook her head at him. She knew that what she said was correct.

“You will sign those papers, Ronald Weasley. We’ve already told the children, the family, and discussed everything with our lawyer. It’s the last thing left to do.”

Ron stared at her for a moment, searching her eyes for something. What? Hermione wasn’t quite sure, but he either found it or didn’t because he eventually sighed and stepped off the doorstep.

“Right,” he mumbled. “You’re right.”

He turned and began to walk back down the garden path with his hands shoved in his pockets, but Hermione needed him to understand one more thing.

“Ron,” she called after him. “Whatever happens after this, I’d _never_ do anything to hurt the children. But whatever happens, it’s mine to choose. Remember that.”

She waited until Ron nodded to her in acknowledgement then turned and looked up at Draco to make sure that he was okay, worried that Ron may have pushed too far. Instead, Draco’s silver eyes looked down at her with a warmth in them so opposed to their icy colour that Hermione couldn’t help the curl to her lips. Draco returned her smile and without moving his gaze from hers, he reached around Hermione to close the door to her cottage.

Hermione was suddenly aware of how intimate that moment must have looked, and her cheeks flushed as he gently pulled his arm back to brush her curls off her face. She had to crane her neck to meet his eyes because Draco was so close to her that the pocket of her hoodie was catching on his belt buckle. It definitely _felt_ intimate.

His breath hitched as it ruffled the curls on her forehead and Hermione could feel his heart beating at a speed that matched her own. She let out a shaky breath that she hadn’t been aware of holding and her breath, running across the skin visible at the opening of his shirt collar, broke Draco’s trance. He blinked, taking a small step back from her but Hermione’s hand followed instinctively, her fingers curling gently around the fabric of his shirt.

Draco felt the slight tug as he stepped back and looked down at her hand with an almost shocked expression on his face. Hermione noticed that his lips had parted and his pupils had blown wide, and she took a deep breath, feeling heat begin to swirl in her abdomen. But before she could close the gap between them again, Draco cleared his throat and grasped her hands in his, bowing his head to kiss her knuckles with his eyes closed.

When he stood up straight again, he was stroking his thumbs across her fingers and Hermione felt self-conscious in a way that she hadn’t done in years. She looked away from Draco, focusing on the thumb that was stroking small circles on her left ring finger and gulped.

“Hey,” Draco spoke softly. “Look at me, Granger.”

She just shook her head, reluctant to meet his eyes, already knowing what he was going to say.

“Hermione,” the way he breathed her given name, a plea to her and her alone, pulled her gaze up again to see the soft smirk on his face.

“You’ve taken your wedding ring off.”

It wasn’t a question. It was a statement so loaded with meaning that, coupled with his damnable smirk, made Hermione’s breath catch again in her throat. Draco saw in her eyes that she was struggling and moved backwards down the hall, pulling her along with him back into the parchment covered living room.

“It’s alright, Granger,” he said kindly. “Let’s just get back to the research.”

Hermione simply nodded, for once disappointed to hear those words, but not knowing how to act on what she was suddenly feeling. Her confusion and distress must have been written all over her face because, before she could fold down to the floor again, Draco cupped her cheek and she leaned into his palm, noting the concern in his eyes.

“You’re an amazing witch, Hermione Granger.”

**6 th October – Office for the Minister for Magic**

“Draco Malfoy? Really, Hermione?” Ginny said immediately as she entered Hermione’s office at lunchtime.

“It’s not like that, Gin,” she protested meekly.

“I know he’s come a long way and I’ll be forever grateful to him for helping us get Albus back. He’s a wonderful father to Scorpius, and I know he went through the wringer losing Astoria, but _seriously_? In your house before you and Ron had even signed the papers?”

Hermione groaned and set her fountain pen down carefully next to the proposal she was making notes on then scrunched her eyes shut and rubbed tight circles into her temples.

“Ron told you what he saw then, not what I told him?”

“Yeah, he came over to Grimmauld yesterday after meeting you to sign the papers. Kept muttering about you moving on already. Harry already knew,” Ginny continued accusingly. “How did Harry already know?”

“The eagle owl on my birthday. Draco’s always had a penchant for them,” Hermione answered without opening her eyes.

“So, there _is_ something going on? He got you that gorgeous holster!” her voice filled with astonishment as the realisation struck her.

“Yes, he did,” Hermione admitted, opening her eyes to look at Ginny. “But there was nothing going on. I’ve just been helping him with some research. I need that book for it actually.”

She held her hand out for the book that Ginny held, having run to Flourish and Blotts to collect it for her when Hermione had found out they finally had a copy in stock.

“ _Tribus et Tribulations: Malédictions à travers le Monde Magique_ ,” Ginny stumbled over the title of the tome she held in her hands. “Ohh, this has something to do with Astoria doesn’t it?”

Hermione tried nodding but even the thought of the movement sent a jolt of pain through her head.

“I can’t tell you either way,” she grimaced through it.

“Then I can assume it’s a DoM project,” Ginny smiled at her. “You’d tell me if there was something going on with you and _Draco_ though, wouldn’t you?”

Hermione swallowed the guilt that suddenly narrowed her throat and nodded, not trusting herself to speak. Truly, she had not been able to make any sense of what had happened in the hallway of her cottage, and Draco had not pushed her to talk about it since.

“I’ll leave you to it then,” Ginny handed her the book. “It looks like a tough one.”

As soon as her office door had closed behind Ginny, Hermione opened the book and ran her fingers over the title page.

_Elodie Dumont_

Hermione had come across this witch’s research just once, referenced briefly in another book amongst the countless wizards who explored the world at the same time as she had. Born in the French Colonies and taken from her native mother by the man who fathered her, Elodie had taken it upon herself to explore everything she could about the world her mother lived in as well as the rest of the magical cultures that European wizards were obliterating.

Hermione wasn’t as practised in her French as Draco was, but she’d grown up with holidays to the Alps and she’d managed to keep it to a standard that had been useful in her dealings with the French, Swiss and certain African Ministries over the years.

She spent the rest of the day deep in trying to understand Elodie’s research, casting translation charms every so often for a word that she didn’t recognise, or for what she knew must be Creole. She was desperate to find more about the artefacts that this book had been referenced for but Miranda paused her research towards the end of the day to ask if Hermione’s notes were ready to be sent back to the Chief Warlock. She had reluctantly set down the book under her secretary’s gaze and finished reading over the Wizengamot’s proposal.

It meant that she returned home late but, grabbing a couple of slices of toast and a black vanilla coffee, she continued to read in her bed, getting crumbs in the sheets but not caring at all because she finally found the section of the she had been looking for. The artefact wasn’t the main element required for the reversal of the curse after all. The artefact symbolised the curse, either being the object that carried the curse or by belonging and having serious significance to the person who was cursed. The significant object was placed in the centre of the caldron holding the potion and, once it was submerged, the shaman would recite the necessary incantation over it.

Hermione spent the better part of the night drafting up her theory and the required steps towards reaching her and Draco’s desired result. She would be able to show it to him tomorrow when they met after lunch.

**The Next Day – Draco’s Laboratory**

Hermione decided to skip lunch and arrived at the Department of Mysteries earlier than they had planned, too anxious about her theory being successful to eat. The Unspeakable who met her at the door to the Department of Mysteries informed her that Draco was out for lunch and wouldn’t be back until the hour was up, but he led her through the twisting labyrinth anyway.

Rather than just twiddle her thumbs and read over their research until Draco returned, Hermione began setting up what she would need to prove her theory to him. She took a sample of their potion and emptied it into a cauldron, only needing a small pewter one for this experiment. She then went about adjusting it to the correct temperature and found the notes for what stages they had completed already.

 _Perfect_ , Hermione thought as she ran through what Draco had worked on with the potion yesterday. The steps he’d completed were at a point where she could just carry on and stir in the additional ingredients that Elodie had noted were used in the shaman’s potion. When it reached the desired shade of pearly, iridescent white, Hermione placed a stasis charm on the cauldron and went over the words of the incantation that she had primarily been working on during their research sessions.

With the words fresh in her mind, Hermione fetched a small vial of Astoria’s blood and carefully placed a single droplet onto a sterile plate, sending the remainder of the vial back to its place on Draco’s shelves. She cast a spell that hardened the droplet, creating a button the colour of garnets with a gem-like sheen to it.

With everything prepared, all she had to do was wait for Draco to get back from his lunch, but it was nerve-wracking sitting in the quiet lab when the only sound was the soft bubbling of the potion under stasis. Hermione’s brain began to go into overdrive.

What if something was wrong with her theory and it didn’t work when she tried to show Draco? What if she disappointed him after building his hopes up about something he had been working towards for years? Her foot tapped out a staccato on the slate floor and she worried her lower lip with her teeth, tearing the soft flesh, but she hardly noticed. She just had to know if it worked. There was no point telling Draco if it didn’t.

Hermione slid her wand out of the holster on her left forearm and removed the stasis charm from the cauldron. She made sure that the incantation was in her eyeline in case she needed a prompt and, taking a few steadying breaths, levitated the droplet of blood over the cauldron and slowly lowered it into the potion.

As soon as the button of blood touched the surface of the pearly white potion, a high-pitched hissing began from the cauldron and the softly simmering potion began to bubble grey and then turned black, spitting furiously.

“No. No, no,” Hermione began to panic. “It didn’t say anything about this!”

She took a cautionary step back from the spitting potion and cleared her throat, preparing to speak the incantation, but before she could utter a single shaky syllable the furious spitting and hissing culminated in an almighty explosion. Shards of cauldron and globs of heavy, black potion, glowing like embers, scattered all over the laboratory.

Hermione shrieked and dropped to her knees beneath the workbench, cowering with her arms over her head. She only raised it when she heard the door fly open and bang against the wall, Draco standing there with his warm, navy blue wool cloak on, just back from his lunch.

He stood stock still in the doorway, his shocked gaze surveying the room until his eyes rested on her. The realisation that washed over him turned his shock to anger, and his ice-cold eyes blazed furiously.

Draco stalked across the room towards her, his height thoroughly domineering from her position on the cold, stone floor. She followed his movement with wide eyes and, shaken by what she’d done to his lab, she stood quickly, banging her shoulder on the underside of the workbench, and ran for the door, dodging around Draco and scrambling up from the floor again when her shaking knees gave way.

“Granger!” Draco called after her. “Hermione!”

She glanced over her shoulder and caught the pained look in his eyes as he stared after her. She’d ruined their work, ruined his lab. She just had to get out of this department, out of this maze and back to her office where she could breathe.

How could she have been so stupid? She should know better than to test out unknown magic without supervision. Draco didn’t even know what it was covering his lab right now. How could he when even _she_ had no idea what had happened to cause that reaction.

Her heels echoed around the dark corridors as she ran past all the mysterious doors, thankful that she had now visited Draco’s laboratory enough to subconsciously remember the way out. She only stopped running when she burst out of the Department of Mysteries and into the marble hallways of the Ministry proper, breathing heavily and her heart pounding. She walked as quickly as she could to the lifts and then watched nervously as the floor numbers increased until they reached her floor.

Grateful that Miranda was still on her lunch break, Hermione closed the office door behind herself and crouched in the middle of the room with her head in her hands, trying to catch her breath and hold back the frustrated scream she could feel building in her chest.

Hermione startled to her feet again when the door burst open behind her, spinning around quickly with her wand drawn, only to find it aimed at Draco who had followed her with no one around to stop him from entering her office.

“Granger,” he gritted through his teeth, kicking the door shut behind him and starting across the office towards her. “What in Merlin’s name would possess you, would make you think, that you can experiment in my lab _by yourself?”_

Struggling to speak as she still tried to catch her breath, and frightened by the bite in his voice, Hermione kept her wand trained on Draco as she backed away from him, knowing full well that she had messed up and that he had every right to be angry with her. But he didn’t even seem to notice her wand, continuing to stalk towards her until she came up against the wall and found herself boxed in by him, the tip of her wand pressing into the taut muscle beneath his ribs.

Draco brought his arms up and placed his palms flat against the wall on either side of Hermione’s face, caging her between his body and the wall, not appearing to care about the wand pressing into him or the shaking hand that gripped it. He leant further forwards and Hermione could feel his breath against her hair, as short and heavy as her own breathing.

“Why, Hermione? Just tell me why you did it?” The questions were whispered but his voice still shook with fury, even as the way he used her given name made her stomach flip.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Draco.”

Hermione couldn’t stand that she had disappointed him. She didn’t want him so close that she could look up into those silver eyes piercing through her soul and see how frustrated he was with her when she was already angry at herself. She wanted him to leave so that she didn’t have to see just how disappointed he was in her.

“I didn’t mean to ruin it all. Just leave, please.”

Draco slowly shook his head, still staring down at her, and refused to move just as Hermione refused to look up and meet his eyes.

“Not until you tell me what prompted you to be so foolish.”

Reluctant to actually hex him, Hermione took a deep breath and steadied herself, summoning all her strength to swipe his feet out from beneath him. Her sudden movement was not enough to make him fall, but it knocked him off balance just enough for Hermione to slip out quickly from between him and the wall, ducking beneath his elbow.

She moved in the direction of the door but cursed when she felt him grab her sleeve. She turned and shoved him away from her, staring with wide eyes, pleading for him to let her go. She already knew that she had been a disappointment to him. He didn’t need to reiterate it.

Her shove forced Draco to fall backwards against her desk with a thud as his hip collided with the dark wood, but he still had a tight hold on her sleeve and pulled Hermione with him. She found herself lying on him, her head resting against his chest as it rose and fell, her fingers splayed against his shirt where his cloak had fallen open. She could feel that the muscles beneath his shirt were tense with the effort of maintaining their awkward position against her desk.

Hermione turned her head and groaned into the wool of his cloak with her eyes closed tightly, breathing in the comforting smell that she knew belonged solely to him. She shuddered when she felt Draco’s arms wrap around her shoulders and breathed out in relief, but then remembered the look in his eyes when he first saw the state of his lab and she tensed in his arms.

“Hey,” Draco murmured, feeling her grow tense. “I’m not angry about the lab, Granger.”

His hands began stroking along her spine soothingly.

“I just don’t understand why you would do it? Why experiment with something when I wasn’t there? You could have been seriously hurt and I wouldn’t have been there. I could have lost you, too.”

The tension in Draco’s voice now struck a different chord with Hermione and she shifted in his arms so that she could peer up at him through her eyelashes. She could see the clench of his jaw, the downturn of his mouth and the flare of his nostrils, so he was still angry, but she realised he’d been worried about her, that his fear had shown as fury.

She let out a long sigh and pushed herself up off his chest, but their legs had been tangled together by their fall and she stumbled, struggling to regain her balance. As she fell backwards towards the floor, Draco pushed himself off her desk and stretched his arms out to catch her, holding her petite frame easily in an embrace that curled his body protectively over her, his breath hot against the side of her neck as his face pressed into her curls.

“Put me down, Draco,” Hermione warned him, her voice hoarse, her chest still rising rapidly with her panted breaths, pressing her breasts against him.

“Are you sure?” he asked, lifting his head to look her in the eyes and Hermione noticed that his pupils had blown wide.

Her stomach flipped again and she swallowed, her embarrassment disappearing suddenly to be replaced by nervousness and a heat that flushed over her entire body. Draco followed the movement of her throat and one of his arms moved so that his hand was supporting her head, his thumb stroking lightly down the side of her neck, making her shudder.

“Yes,” she responded in little more than a whisper.

Hermione clutched Draco’s cloak tightly between her fingers, expecting him to pull her up but instead, he lowered her to the carpeted floor of her office, his eyes roaming her face as he caged her in again, holding his body up to hover over hers. She felt her breath stutter and couldn’t help but flit her gaze between his eyes and his lips, wetting her own lips with her tongue. When Draco noticed that, he smirked and lowered himself onto his forearms until their lips were ghosting over each other.

“You should have asked me to pull you up, _Minister_ ” he teased and then kissed her, finally pressing their lips together, his hands tangling in her hair as she felt a shiver run down her spine.

Hermione lost herself in it. In the touch of Draco’s lips melding against hers, the way his tongue flicked against her upper lip. In the feeling that she hadn’t felt in a long time. The desire, the longing, the heat swirling in her abdomen. It was the feeling that she had been so close to a few days ago but hadn’t known how to act on. There, on her office floor of all places, Draco was in control and Hermione didn’t even have to think, just revel in it as her body reacted to him.

Her dress was bunching up beneath her on the carpet as she tried to arch up to meet Draco, but he was still holding his body off her, not touching Hermione besides his hand twisted in her hair, his lips moving over hers and his tongue brushing her own. She tried to wrap her legs around his hips and pull him down to her, but Draco shifted his knees so that he trapped her ankles between them. Hermione moaned in frustration and he chuckled into her mouth, his lips curling in a smirk that she didn’t have to see to recognise. She nipped his lower lip between her teeth, grumbling her complaint, then scooted away from him, squeezing between his arms and glaring at him for laughing at her.

“Hermione,” he said softly, meeting her eyes and readjusting her dress for her as she sat with her arms crossed. “I’m not about to ravish you for the first time on your office floor. You deserve more than that and… and I’d like to take you to dinner first, if that’s something you would feel inclined towards.”

Draco leant forwards to tuck some of her errant curls behind her ear and Hermione allowed her arms to fall into her lap as she stared at him with her mouth open in a small ‘o’. She gulped before nodding, letting her eyes take him in as he knelt back in front of her, quirking her eyebrow when they drifted to the tent in his trousers.

“I never said you didn’t have that particular effect on me,” he smirked at her, chuckling slightly as he extended a hand to help Hermione to her feet.

He didn’t let go once she was standing. Instead he perched properly on the edge of her desk and pulled her so that she stood between his legs where he proceeded to rub his hands up and down her arms, almost as if he was reassuring himself that she was there.

“I’m sorry,” Hermione apologised again, cupping his face in her palm and smiling slightly when Draco leant into her touch. “I wanted to show you something that I had come across but didn’t want the theory to fail so thought I would test it out first rather than disappoint you.”

She scoffed and Draco met her eyes with curiosity sparkling in his.

“Well, fat lot of good it did. I ended up disappointing you anyway.”

“Don’t think that,” Draco turned his head to place a kiss in her palm then curled her fingers around it, bringing her closed fist to rest in his hands on his lap. “I was frustrated that you would endanger yourself like that, but never disappointed in you. Never.”

Hermione looked down at their hands under the intensity of his gaze and twined their fingers together.

“Now, that theory you have?” he continued, pulling Hermione’s gaze back to his. “Whatever it is, we can go through it together. Okay?”

**26 th October – Office for the Minister of Magic**

Draco had pointed out to Hermione, after listening to her theory, that Astoria’s blood couldn’t be used as the artefact because it would react violently with certain ingredients in the potion. Other than that, he had been impressed with the theory and agreed with some of the merits that Hermione had found in it. He seemed to believe that with just a bit of altering to the specific circumstances and the time period, they could make it work for them.

When they had gone out for dinner, apparating to a restaurant in muggle Edinburgh where hopefully no one they knew would see them, Draco had insisted on no shop talk, asking her about the children and her parents and the Weasleys. Wanting to know what it was like growing up in muggle suburbia, finding out she was a witch. They shared their thoughts about books they had both had the chance to read and Draco confessed his amazement at muggle movies.

“Astoria was curious and dragged me along once,” he had admitted to her and, although he couldn’t remember the name of the film, he quite easily relayed to her his thoughts on the horrifying, incestuous pit of grime and bacteria that was the cinema. Hermione had sniggered at that and he’d shot her an incredulous look which just sent her into peals of laughter.

“I always preferred watching movies in the comfort of my own home,” she had confessed, reaching across the table and entwining their fingers, beginning a discussion of her favourite films.

Hermione hadn’t known what to expect at the end of the date so, after Draco had settled their bill and conceded to allowing her to leave the tip, she had found her arms swinging nervously at her side as they walked along the pavement to a suitable apparition point.

Draco had eventually tutted in the silence and brought them to a stop by grabbing her hands and bring them behind his back so that she was hugging him, her face pressed into the warmth of his grey wool coat.

“Granger, I can feel how tense you are,” he’d murmured, and Hermione had felt his jaw move with the words as he rested his chin on the top of her head. “If you’re not careful, your hair will begin to frizz.”

She had leant her head back to glare at him but found a teasing smirk on his face and a sparkle in his eyes so, from some place in her brain, Hermione had decided to stick her tongue out at him instead. His response had been to bend down and press their lips together for a long moment in a kiss that made her mind go blank and had left her blinking up at him, her red and swollen lips parted once he had pulled back.

Draco had chuckled at her expression then apparated them to the front garden of her cottage where he bid her good night with a chaste kiss and watched until she had closed the front door. At this point, she had promptly collapsed against it and let out a long, happy sigh.

Since then, they had been spending even more time together during the day. Hermione was sure that Miranda had noticed because her secretary had begun raising an eyebrow each time Draco turned up at her office or whenever Hermione actually left the Ministry for lunch. On top of the research they had been doing for Draco’s project, Hermione had begun going to him to complain about a meeting that she had just had to sit through and had even started asking him for his opinions on certain proposals.

What Hermione hadn’t done was what she had promised Ginny and tell her when there was something going on with Draco. She didn’t see much harm in waiting a few weeks before telling anyone, especially when news spread like fiendfyre in the Weasley family. It was going to be a shock no matter what, but better that they didn’t think it had anything to do with her divorce.

She was relishing in being able to talk to somebody about work who understood all the bureaucracy she had to wade through. Someone who didn’t expect her to be perfect and able to handle everything all the time, and who was actually interested in the political matters that laid at the heart of everything she did. Draco was brilliant at letting her know who she should talk with about some matters and who she should definitely avoid about others. He told her where the links were between pureblood and other old wizarding families, as well as a brief background of the families’ political beliefs. Hermione had come to know a lot of this already but his inside view of it all was interesting to say the least.

They had been discussing the loyalties of the Wizengamot members at lunch and flooed directly into Hermione’s office from the Leaky. She knew that she would have people waiting outside to see her but, since their lunch had been in the very public Leaky Cauldron, they had been keeping their hands to themselves the entire hour and now, Hermione could let herself relax with him.

She grabbed hold of Draco’s silken tie while he was swiping the soot from his shoulders and pulled him down for a kiss. He hummed against her lips, surprised, but quickly wrapped his arms around her and gathered her into his embrace, deepening their kiss.

Hermione slid her hands up his chest and over the shoulders of his deep blue cloak, stretching up onto her toes to tangle her fingers in the loose hair at the base of his skull where it was gathered in the start of his braid. She was only prevented from toppling forwards in her heels by Draco’s tight grip around her waist that kept her pressed flush against his torso.

She moaned as Draco ran his tongue over her lower lip and she drew her nails down the back of his neck in response, eliciting a groan from him and feeling a shudder run through his shoulders. Hermione pressed their lips together more fervently, drinking in all the keening noises without knowing whether they were hers or his.

“Hermione,” Draco growled, finally breaking them apart but pressing his forehead to hers with his eyes closed, breathing heavily.

A soft whine escaped Hermione’s lips at the tone of his voice and Draco’s eyes blinked open, black orbs ringed with a sliver of grey that made her heart skip a beat. He looked determined as he set her back on her feet properly and squeezed the curve of her hips, pushing her in a backwards stumble towards her desk.

The feeling of his fingers pressing hard into her flesh as he stared intensely into her eyes sent heat pooling through her abdomen and her breath hitched. She only found it again when she came up against the large mahogany desk and Draco used his strong grip to lift her up so that she was sitting on it.

“Draco,” she breathed against his lips when he stepped close again between her legs. “We shouldn’t…we can’t get too carried away.”

He was stroking his fingers tantalisingly along her thighs and found the sliver of tanned skin between the top of her stockings and the ridden-up hem of her skirt.

“We won’t,” he whispered, placing a kiss against her lips. “We still have work.”

He might have been saying that, but he had also hooked his index finger over the top of her stocking and was running it around her thigh. Hermione groaned and wrapped her arms around his neck again as she threw her head back. Draco chuckled and began peppering wet kisses along her neck and over her collarbones.

Suddenly, Hermione was pulled from her ecstasy, blinking her eyes open again, when the door to her office clicked open and Miranda walked in looking down at her diary.

“Very sorry, Minister. I know you’ve just returned from lunch, but the…” she trailed of when she looked up from the diary and realised what predicament she had walked in on, cheeks flushing red.

“Oh my!” Miranda exclaimed, turning her back as Draco pulled his hand from Hermione’s leg and stepped rather reluctantly away from her, adjusting the fall of his cloak to cover his obvious arousal.

“Thank you, Miranda,” Hermione spoke shakily, hopping down from her desk and pulling the hem of her skirt down. “Please inform my next appointment that I’m just dealing with a Mysteries matter and will be with them shortly. Then could I have a word?”

“Yes ma’am,” Miranda responded, glancing over her shoulder. “I’ll return once Unspeakable Malfoy leaves.”

“Draco!” Hermione hissed when Miranda had left. “Fix my lipstick please, and my hair. Oh Merlin.”

He grasped his wand and she felt the familiar tingle of his magic wash over her, knowing that her lipstick would be impeccable once again and feeling her hair tighten into its slicked-back chignon. In turn, Hermione cleaned her lipstick off his face and readjusted his tie, smiling when Draco tucked a finger under her chin and brought her face up to look into her eyes.

“Perfect,” he whispered, kissing her on the top of the head before walking out of her office.

“Miranda,” Hermione called out of the door that Draco had left ajar.

“Madam Minister?” she said, entering the office and closing the door behind her.

“I can depend on your discretion, yes?”

“Of course, ma’am,” Miranda sounded slightly surprised.

“It’s just…we’re still figuring things out and, well, with my divorce still so recent…”

“Understood, ma’am. No need to explain. But I feel I should inform you…” Miranda trailed off looking uncertain.

“Yes?” Hermione prompted, raising a curious eyebrow.

“Well, there are already rumours,” she lowered her voice. “The Ministry has noticed how often the two of you… seek each other’s confidences.”

“Noted, Miranda,” Hermione inclined her head to her secretary. “Thank you. I shall endeavour to be more discreet and you have my apologies.”

“That’s quite alright, Minister. We’re all adults here,” Miranda smiled broadly at her and Hermione had the terrifying feeling that she was going to wink at her.

“Send my next appointment in, please,” she said quickly, taking a seat in her wing-backed office chair.

“Certainly, ma’am.” Miranda sounded back to her professional self as she exited into the antechamber.

**13 th November – Hermione’s Cottage**

Since Miranda’s warning, and a few more pointed questions from Ginny, Hermione and Draco had tried to be more discreet. They didn’t meet outside of their offices for lunch anymore. Instead, Draco would use the atrium floos to travel via the Manor or the Leaky and then connect to the fireplace in Hermione’s office, leaving in the reverse. They started doing any joint work in his lab after hours when there were minimal people in the Ministry building and they would often follow it with a simple dinner at Hermione’s cottage during which Hermione would introduce him to the pleasures of enjoying a film from the comfort of one’s sofa. Draco would also occasionally whisk her away to a wonderful restaurant in an obscure town or city where they were less likely to be recognised.

Between all this sneaking around, and despite the many distracting kisses they had shared, the two of them finally believed that they had a workable potion and Draco had determined the incantation to be perfect. The only thing left to do was test it on an artefact.

Draco’s theory, since it had been a blood curse, was that it had to be an item of Astoria’s that was significant in the fact that she had inherited it through the line that had originally been cursed. If it was successful, he believed that they would be able to see, or at least test for, a change in the samples of Astoria’s blood they had.

While Hermione waited in her cottage, catching up on proposals and paperwork that she had neglected during the week, Draco was rooting through his Gringotts vaults for something of Astoria’s that fit the requirements and failing that, he would move on to search through the Manor. What they both hoped was that they didn’t have to disturb Scorpius at Hogwarts to see if he had taken anything with him.

She was pulled from the depths of her focus by a tapping at the window of her home office by Leontes, Draco’s impressive eagle owl. Hermione smiled at him and rolled her chair over to pull up the sash window, cooing to him as he flapped into her office and perched himself on the pile of refence books at one end of her desk.

“Have you got good news for me, darling?” She brushed her knuckles along his plumage and took the letter he proffered, just as she heard Ginny shout greetings to her from down the hall.

Hermione shouted back, letting Ginny know where she was, but then panic washed over her as she remembered that she still hadn’t said anything more about Draco to her friend and the first thing Ginny would see as she entered the office was Leontes. Bemoaning her past self for her foolishness, Hermione braced herself for Ginny’s reaction. She couldn’t exactly get rid of the large eagle owl when he was patiently waiting for her reply.

“You’re always in your office when I see you recently, Hermione. Why don’t you come to the Burrow or Grimmauld more often?” Ginny complained, walking into the cosy room with its floor to ceiling bookshelves that required a rolling ladder for Hermione to be able to reach the top four shelves.

She stopped just as she crossed the threshold, blinking at the sight of the eagle owl who had swivelled his head around to hoot pleasantly at her.

“Ginny, Leontes. Leontes, Ginny,” Hermione sighed, gesturing between them.

“That is Draco’s owl, Hermione… On a _Saturday_ ,” Ginny pointed out.

“Yes, Ginny. I’m quite aware of that,” Hermione narrowed her eyes at her friend, daring her to say something.

“A _Saturday,_ Hermione!”

“For his project, Gin. And I do need to read his letter if you don’t mind.”

“Oh by all means,” Ginny said scathingly, waving her hand at the envelope.

Hermione hesitated slightly about opening the letter in front of Ginny and attempted to get her out of the office.

“Could you go and get the owl treats from the kitchen, please.”

But Ginny just held her wand out and summoned the muslin bag into her waiting hand without her eyes straying from Hermione once.

Sighing, Hermione tore open the top of the envelope with her thumbnail and pulled out the elegantly written note on impressive Malfoy stationary.

_Granger._

_Found a family tome that Astoria told me she wanted to pass on to a daughter if we ever had one. It was on the bookshelves in the Lady’s Day Room._

_An antiquated notion, I know. I could never imagine you sitting in one room to sew, read and learn music all day. Well, perhaps the reading but I digress._

_Failing that, although I doubt it based on the family tree inside the cover, there is also a necklace that I believe belonged to her grandmother. I have brought it from Gringotts just in case._

_I await your company in ‘Malfoy Manor, Master Suite’._

_Yours,_

_D. Malfoy_

Hermione fought hard to school her expression in front of Ginny and reached for the bag of treats, feeding some to Leontes while she composed her reply.

“The master suite? _Yours_?” Ginny remarked incredulously, reading the letter that Hermione had set aside.

“Gin! That’s private,” Hermione snatched it back, sliding it under the pile of books that Leontes was still perched on.

“You’re going, aren’t you?” Ginny sounded shocked at the realisation.

“Of course I am, Gin. This is really important. We’re so close!”

Hermione finished off her note saying she would be with him presently and sent it off with the eagle owl before turning to smile sheepishly at her friend.

“I’ve got time for a coffee. Or tea. Whatever you want really, and we can talk.”

“Why do I have the feeling I’ll need something stronger?” Ginny folded her arms and Hermione laughed shortly.

“I’ll make it an Irish coffee. Come on.”

X - X - X

Once Ginny had finally found out what had been going on between Hermione and Draco, found out about the dinners and the movies and the interrupted office make-out sessions, she was suddenly much more eager for Hermione to floo over to Malfoy Manor.

Hermione was still wrapping her head around how she felt about being pushed into the fireplace by her best friend when she tumbled out of the other end and had to be picked up off the rich, Persian rug by Draco.

“All right there, Granger?” he chortled, amused by her sudden appearance.

“Umm, yeah,” Hermione looked around herself bewilderedly until Draco bent down slightly to meet her eyes.

“Are you sure?” he asked, cupping her cheek and peering into her eyes as though checking her vitals but with a stupid, teasing grin still on his face.

“Yes, I’m sure, Draco,” she responded, smacking the back of her hand lightly against his abdomen. “Ginny was just behaving rather strangely.”

“Strange how?” Draco leant back from her and drew out the question wearily.

“She seemed so suspicious of you but then, when she saw Leontes right now and I finally told her what we’ve been doing, she practically pushed me through the floo!”

“And I am very glad she did,” Draco wrapped his arms around her with a mischievous sparkle in his eyes.

A shiver ran down Hermione’s spine and she sighed, relaxing into his embrace before she remembered why she was there.

“Draco, the family tome. Where is it?” He let her pull away from him and grabbed hold of her hand, leading her out of the master suite and down to the ground floor.

“Both the necklace and the tome are already in my potions lab here at the Manor,” he explained pulling her along corridors to a tapestry that hid a simple, stone staircase.

Draco gestured for her to go ahead of him and he muttered a spell that made the darkness of the stairwell suddenly glow like moonlight. At the bottom they reached a door which Hermione was able to push open to reveal an immaculately equipped potions lab with cauldrons of every material in every size, storage for hanging ingredients as well as plenty of cool storage and warm storage. Shelves upon shelves of books, jars, bottles and vials. Neutral environments where plates, utensils and other equipment could not be contaminated. Hermione thought it must be better equipped than his lab at the DoM.

“Wow,” she breathed, looking around and resisting the urge to run her fingertips over everything. “You really were into all of this before coming to the Ministry.”

Draco chuckled and brought her wandering to a halt by wrapping his arms around her waist from behind and resting his chin in the messy curls on the top of her head.

“You should know I don’t do things by halves, Madam Minister.”

“Yes, so determined to get what you want,” she teased, turning in his arms and tilting her head back to look up at him and letting out a pleased hum when he took the hint and pressed a slow, gentle kiss to her lips.

Too soon he pulled away and walked past Hermione to a workbench that already had a cauldron bubbling away on it, the two items he had mentioned laying to the side. It was clear to Hermione that Draco had somehow brought home - or hopefully replicated - the potion they had been working on in the DoM. The workbench also held multiple samples of what she assumed was Astoria’s blood in various shaped vials or under stasis on sterile plates.

Draco handed Hermione his copy of their research notes, already folded to the page with their final draft of the incantation on. She looked up at him with wide eyes and he smiled in understanding at her uncertainty and anticipation.

“This was all thanks to your determination to find every single mention in every single book. I want you to read the incantation and I’ll lower the tome into the cauldron.”

“Wait,” Hermione reached out and grabbed his elbow as he turned back to the workbench. “The tome. Won’t Scorpius want it at some point, or Daphne even?”

Draco smirked and pulled something out of his pocket, casting _engorgio_ to bring it back to its original size.

“I’m ahead of you there, Granger. Already duplicated it, so you can read through it later to your heart’s content.” He winked at her then placed a kiss on the top of her head, putting the copy of Astoria’s family tome on the stool closest to them.

They took the final few steps forward until they were right in front of the bubbling cauldron and Hermione took a deep breath, clutching the parchment in her hands tight enough for her fingers to go stiff.

“Ready?” Draco asked looking down and nudging her slightly with his elbow.

Hermione let her breath back out again in a long exhale and nodded determinedly, quickly reaching across to squeeze his hand once before clutching at the incantation again.

Draco set a couple of diagnostic charms on the vials containing Astoria’s blood and Hermione could see the black curse marks floating around in the microscopic projection of the blood droplets on the plate. She was suddenly very aware that if they hadn’t managed to solve this, then Scorpius’ blood could also one day look like that. Or his children’s blood.

With a wordless levitation charm, Draco moved the original tome to hover over the potion and, like Hermione had done with the button of Astoria’s blood, he slowly lowered it into the potion. They watched with bated breath until it was fully submerged and Draco had released the charm, letting out a loud breath when nothing untoward happened.

Hermione held her left hand out over the cauldron, palm facing down, and began to move it from left to right and back again over the potion. As she recited the incantation, she could feel her magic humming through her fingertips, amplified by the holster that held her wand and she reined in the shudder that wanted to course through her body.

The words, mixed with the flow of her magic, came so naturally that she had no need of the parchment that held the written incantation. She became so focused on the movements of her hand and the sensation of the potion beneath it that the passage of time and Draco’s presence faded from her consciousness. It was only when she’d finished the chant and he gently placed a hand on her shoulder that she blinked him back into existence.

She was aware of how heavy her breathing was but also how slow her heartbeat seemed. Draco gently encouraged her to look at him and, satisfied that she was only slightly dazed and was already beginning to come back down from her trance, he nodded to himself and Hermione noticed the huge grin on his face.

“Look,” he exclaimed with his eyes twinkling, turning Hermione by the shoulders so she was looking directly at the vials on the other side of the cauldron. “Hermione, look!”

The diagnostic bubbles surrounding the vials were glowing a bright, lime green, a complete contrast to the burnt orange that surrounded them before. Hermione didn’t need to understand the looping Latin phrases twisting through the bubbles to know that whatever they’d done had worked.

She took a step closer to peer at the microscopic image which looked exactly how a human’s blood should look like - platelets and red blood cells and neutrophils – no longer marred by blackened, burnt cells.

“It worked,” she breathed in awe. “Draco, it worked!”

His hands grasped her tightly by the waist and lifted her off the ground, spinning her around in glee, laughter bursting from both their mouths in joy. For Draco, it was the hard-worked-for success, the culmination of many years of research into the blood curse that had eaten away at his wife’s life and had been a threat to his son. For Hermione it was the reaction to his happiness, to his relief, and of course, the release of all her anticipation about this theory working for his sake.

Draco eventually set her back down and bent to bring their lips together, pouring all his emotions into the kiss. He pulled at her lower lip with his teeth, ran his tongue along the seam until she let him in, moaning and clutching him closer as their tongues brushed against each other.

When they parted for air, Draco groaned and began kissing along the side of her neck, nipping lightly and flicking his tongue against her sensitive pulse point. Hermione gasped and Draco pressed her closer to him still with a steady hand on her lower back. He sucked her earlobe and moved his other hand to squeeze her arse, sending a jolt of pleasure through Hermione’s core so she was pulsing with need.

She stretched up as much as she could on her toes and ground against the tight bulge in his trousers which made Draco growl low into the crook of her neck. He swiftly bent at the knees and lifted her, cupping his hands under her cheeks and Hermione instinctively wrapped her legs around his hips as tight as she could, suddenly cursing the fact that she was wearing jeans rather than a dress and stocking like she would have at work.

Hermione leant her arms on his broad shoulders and twisted her fingers into his hair, freeing it from the casual braid he had it tied back in as Draco began to slowly thrust his hips so that his cock, tightly encased in his trousers, was finding added friction against the seam of her jeans.

“Draco,” she moaned. “ _Ngh_ , Draco…we need… _ahh_ ” Hermione trailed off as he thrust a few times at the perfect angle to connect with her clit.

“I know,” he murmured into her shoulder. “Upstairs?”

“Not what I… Oh! Draco, stop. Not what I meant.”

To his credit, he ceased his rutting against her immediately and sat her down on an empty workbench where she squirmed against the hot wetness in her knickers and the rough seam of her jeans.

“I mean, yes to upstairs,” she clarified, quickly continuing as he took a step towards her again, his irises obscured by cavernous black pools. “ _But_ , let’s put your success into some sort of order first, okay? We can’t leave it lying around like this.”

She looked for the dawning comprehension in his eyes and grabbed his hands, pressing tight circles into the back of them with her thumbs. After a few slow blinks, Draco nodded and placed a chaste kiss on her cheek before pulling her forwards so that her head rested against his chest and he was stroking her wild mane of curls.

“You’re right,” he said, turning back to the cauldron and placing a stasis charm over it.

Hermione hopped down off the bench and began putting the parchment pieces full of Draco’s notes back into the correct order while he organised what he wanted to do with the vials of Astoria’s newly uncursed blood. She briefly caught the proud look of someone who had found closure on his face as he carefully moved them, by hand, to the cabinet where they would remain safe until he decided what to do with his successful research.

When he had locked the cabinet up, Hermione laced their fingers together, standing silently with him for a moment until he turned to her with an attentive smile curving his lips. He pulled on her hand and began to lead her from the lab, up the stone staircase and back into the opulent hallways of the Manor.

Reaching the main staircase, Draco stopped and pushed Hermione against the bannister, claiming her lips in a passionate kiss that left her breathless and her legs shaking. Smirking at her reaction, Draco pulled her further up the stairs and back along the corridor that led to the master suite.

Entering the large space, Draco pushed the door closed behind them and Hermione pressed herself against him, reaching up to wrap her arms around his neck again and run her fingers through the loose cascade of soft blonde hair. Taking the hint, Draco lifted her up to wrap her legs around him again and began walking them towards what she assumed was his bedroom while Hermione peppered his face with kisses.

Draco came to a stop when they reached his bed and he lay Hermione down on the soft covers, arranging her so that her legs were flat but parted and bent slightly at the knee. He leant over her, running his hands up her sides and ghosting over her breasts until he reached her shoulders where he manoeuvred her arms above her head, holding her wrists together in one hand.

He looked intensely into her eyes and Hermione felt no inclination whatsoever to move from the position he’d laid her out in. She just watched as her ran his hands down her body and lifted her jumper up to expose her stomach, following the trail of his hands with his lips. When he was done with her stomach, he pulled her jumper up further until it was covering her face and she could no longer see what he was doing.

Hermione could only feel and gasp at the sensations of his fingertips and palms teasing her breasts before he pulled the cups of her bra down and sucked hard at one nipple while his fingers gently nipped the other. She moaned and arched her back off the bed as much as she could considering she had no purchase with her feet spread the way they were.

Draco continued sucking and swirling his tongue around her nipples while his hand made its way down to the fastening of her jeans. He popped the button open and pulled down the zipper before she felt the bed shift as he settled himself on the bed between her legs. He hooked both hands into the waistband of her jeans and slowly tugged them down over her hips and off her legs, removing her shoes as he went.

On the way back up, he lifted her right leg beneath the calf and kissed and nipped and licked all the way up the inside of her leg from ankle to groin. There, he paused for a second with his breath teasing her through the material of her knickers until she was writhing and pleading with him to continue.

“In a minute,” he pressed another kiss to the inside of her thigh before she felt his breath back on her hot centre. “I’m admiring how gorgeous you are all laid out for me like this.”

Hermione groaned at the low chuckle in his voice and tried to shuffle closer to him.

“Please, Draco. Please,” she breathed, and he nipped the soft skin of her belly just above the waistband of her knickers between his teeth, eliciting a soft yelp from Hermione’s lips.

“Since you asked so nicely,” he murmured and then pressed his nose to her clit through her knickers, the pressure on the sensitive bud of nerves making Hermione groan as she twisted in the bedcovers beneath her.

Draco kissed and licked roughly along the seat of her knickers and Hermione really started to wish they weren’t there, or at least that she could see what he was doing.

“I want to see you,” she told him, voicing her thoughts automatically, lost in the sensations rolling through her.

“You’re so wet, Granger,” Draco sucked at her clit through her soaked knickers, ignoring her request, and she keened, muttering a jumble of _yeses_.

When she stopped writhing, he pulled her knickers down in the same way he’d removed her jeans and she felt the bed shift again. After a moment, he was kissing up the centre of her body and running a warm hand along her side, sliding it underneath the arch of her lower back as he hovered over her.

“Hermione,” he purred right next to her ear and she shuddered, loving the way he said her name. “I’m going to pull you up in a second, but I need you to be very sure to keep your arms held straight above your head. Can you do that for me?”

Hermione nodded, breathing heavily beneath the wool of the jumper that was still covering her face and felt Draco’s magic tingle across her skin as he whispered a contraception and protection charm on himself while he hovered slightly above her.

Suddenly, the arm that Draco had snaked under her pulled her to sit upright on his lap and Hermione realised that he had removed his clothes at some point because his hard length was rubbing teasingly between her slick folds. She moaned and rocked her hips instinctively, going to drop her arms to his shoulders before remembering his instruction. She gasped and stilled, thinking about his expectation of her and he chuckled slightly.

“Good girl,” he whispered right by her ear and thrust against her in praise. He continued sliding his cock through her folds as he finally pulled the jumper the rest of the way off her head, dropping it onto the bed.

“You can wrap your arms around my neck now, Hermione,” he told her, bringing a hand to cup her cheek and running his thumb along her lower lip.

Hermione blinked her eyes open against the light in his bedroom and found the black pools of his eyes staring into hers. He changed the angle of his thrust ever so slightly to rub against her clit and the sensation had Hermione shaking in his arms.

Draco pressed his thumb harder against her lips and she parted them, allowing him to lightly hold her tongue down.

“Suck, Hermione,” he told her, and she wrapped her lips around his thumb and did just that, swirling her tongue around the tip of it as he moaned and continued to thrust against her clit.

When the sensation became too much for Hermione, she let go of his thumb with a gasp and threw her head back, moving her hips frantically against his thrusts, wanting him inside her.

“Want…you…” she panted between her shuddering moans, and Draco gripped her waist with his hands, lifting her slightly.

She whimpered at feeling suddenly bereft but then Draco lined the swollen head of his cock up with the centre of her slick heat and thrust in to the hilt, allowing her to adjust to the feel of him. Of all of him.

Hermione groaned and shuddered, rolling her hips at the sensation of delicious fullness he was giving her, wanting to feel him slide along her front wall, along the sensitive nerves there. Draco parted his thighs further, allowing him to slide even deeper into her and Hermione threw her head back again with a moan.

“Look at me, Hermione. I want you to look at me.”

She pulled her head back up and blinked Draco back into focus, dragging her nails up the back of his neck and making him shudder, his cock twitching inside her.

She liked that.

“ _Ngh_ , Hermione,” he moaned, sitting up from his haunches and beginning to rock frantically up into her.

The pace he set was punishing but Hermione was already shuddering with pleasure and the feeling of his pelvis hitting her clit each time he thrust completely inside her was yet another glorious jolt to her core. She felt the tension building and building with each thrust until she shouted his name and collapsed forwards onto his chest, shuddering in his arms as she clenched around him.

Draco slowed his thrusts as she came down from her high, pulling her through it and then kissed her deeply, sweeping his tongue over her swollen lips as he pumped slowly into her. When he pulled away from the kiss, he thrust deeply a few more times, making Hermione cry out with each one before stilling inside her, shuddering and tangling a hand in her curls until he was entirely spent.

They panted hot breaths against each other’s damp skin for a while, Hermione pressing her lips to his collar bone while Draco leant his cheek against her temple. She remained straddling Draco’s lap as he clutched her close to him, his arms tightly encasing her torso.

Eventually, Draco laid her back on the bed and slipped out of her with a sigh, rolling onto his side and wrapping Hermione in his arms, his long body curled around hers so that his chin rested in her curls and he lay one thigh across her calves, tangling their legs together. Hermione buried herself into his embrace, murmuring blissfully into Draco’s chest and pressing lazy kisses over his heart.

“We did it,” she heard him breathe and she turned her head slightly, blinking her eyes open to look up at the midnight blue canopy of his bed. “We found the solution. The cure.”

His breath hitched, catching in his throat and Hermione pushed herself up onto her elbows so she could see his face, sudden emotion filling his eyes, the sharp, silver gaze glazing over.

“Yes, Draco,” she affirmed, shuffling out of his pliable arms and moving his head to rest in her lap. “You did it. All your hard work will help so many people around the world. Scorpius is safe, your future grandchildren and great-grandchildren are safe. Astoria would be so, so proud of you darling.”

She whispered her praise to him as she ran her fingers through his silken hair, lightly grazing his scalp with her nails. Tears began to silently roll down his cheeks and Hermione wiped them away gently before going back to stroking his hair.

“You can rest now, Draco. I’ve got you.”

At her words, a sob tore from his chest and he turned his head to muffle his cries into her legs, wrapping his arms around her hips and holding onto her for dear life as he shook through his relief. Hermione continued to run her fingers through his hair and rubbed calming circles into his back between his shoulder blades, soothing him with murmured words of comfort.

**A Month Later – Malfoy Manor**

“’ _The incredible breakthrough comes at the expense of years of dedicated work by Mr Malfoy who painstakingly continued in his research even after the devastating loss of his wife, Astoria (nee Greengrass) who was, herself, a frequent contributor to the work of St Mungo’s._ ’”

Hermione read the article in that morning’s Daily Prophet out loud so Draco could hear it.

“’ _Speaking on his work, Mr Malfoy stated that he could not have completed his work without the trust of the Ministry nor the support he received from our Minister herself._ ’”

She paused as a grin bloomed across her face, clearing her throat before continuing.

“’ _Mr Malfoy and the healers of St Mungo’s insist that the work undertaken will provide countless of witches and wizards around the world with a chance at renewed life, cured from their blood curses, with the specially applied and personalised treatment Mr Malfoy presented yesterday to the premier wizarding healing facility in Britain._ ’”

Below this passage was a photo of Draco shaking hands with the Head Healer of the magical curse ward in the main lobby of St Mungo’s, handing over the folio of detailed notes and research that he had spent day and night putting together in a comprehensive manner over the past few weeks.

“’ _When asked if his son was proud of his dedicated work, Mr Malfoy told journalists that, if anything, he was very proud of his son who, he said, had coped brilliantly with the loss of his mother despite a few slips last year. But they have come through that now and Mr Malfoy is looking forward to spending some quality, relaxed family time with Scorpius who returns from Hogwarts for Christmas break in just a few days.’”_

“Yes, and now we only have today until our children return to wreak havoc on our tranquillity this evening. What _was_ I thinking when I said that?” Draco teased, walking out of the bathroom’s open door towelling his hair.

Hermione’s response caught in her throat as she raked her gaze along the hard lines of his muscles, following the light trail of hair down his stomach to the half-hard cock that twitched in interest under her gaze. She folded the paper closed and dropped it onto the duvet that covered her lap as she had been sat waiting for Draco to finish in the bathroom.

Her tongue flicked out to wet her lips and Draco dropped the towel on the floor, stalking across the bedroom with long, slow strides to the end of the bed.

“See something you like, Granger?” he smirked at her, climbing up onto the bed and crawling up over her, throwing the paper to one side and pinning the duvet tight around her legs.

Hermione shivered at the jolt of pleasure that ran down her spine and settled in her abdomen, watching his irises become obscured by obsidian as he drew closer, the breath from his parted lips brushing against hers. She found herself unable to speak, only moaning wantonly as she nodded her answer, tangling her fingers in his damp hair when he finally closed the gap and pressed their lips together. Draco swiped his tongue inside her mouth and nipped her lower lip between his teeth, pulling soft groans from her.

“Shall we make breakfast a brunch?” Draco asked, pulling away and releasing her from the confines of the duvet before leaning forwards again to take the hard nipple that had slipped from her loose negligée into his mouth, teasing and sucking until Hermione was a pliant mess beneath him.

She bucked her hips to try and meet him but he held himself just out of reach, kneeling between her legs. Chuckling, he ran his hands tantalisingly up the sides of her thighs and over her hips, pushing the hem of her negligee up around her waist then cupped his hands beneath her arse and yanked her down the bed.

Hermione gasped at the sudden motion but mewled when she realised that the head of his cock was pressed against the entrance to her warm centre and writhed against him.

“Shh,” Draco calmed her quietly, leaning over her to place his hands either side of her head on the mattress. “I’m right here.”

As he pressed their lips together in a slow, full kiss, he slid into her and Hermione gasped into his mouth, circling her hips to adjust to the feeling before he pulled back and thrust into her. He moved slowly at first, matching the pace of their kiss but when he pulled back for air, he snapped his hips forwards quickly and Hermione gasped again.

She moaned his name on the next quick thrust and then lost herself as he quickened the pace, raising her hips to meet him instinctively, chasing her release of the tension she could feel swirling in her core. Draco nudged her thighs further apart and the new angle it created had her clenching around him, climbing ever closer to the peak and then shuddering as she fell over the edge. She arched her back off the mattress and screamed his name as he thrust to a halt, collapsing onto her and moaning into her shoulder, the two of them shuddering down from their highs.

Coming back to himself before she did, Draco summoned a vial from the bathroom and handed it to Hermione.

“Sorry, love,” he whispered as he pressed a soft kiss to her swollen lips, knowing that she didn’t like the taste of the contraceptive potion, much preferring him to use the charm beforehand.

“That’s alright,” she said, loving that he knew that about her already and swallowing the potion with only a slight grimace before kissing him again. “We should make a move.”

Hermione was suddenly aware of the ache in her legs, still pressed apart by Draco’s hips and straightened her legs, hinting at him to move and then stretched as he gazed down at her reverently.

“Stop that,” she scolded lightly. “We can’t be looking at each other like that when the children get back.”

“Terribly sorry, Minister,” he schooled his expression before grinning openly at her and climbing off the bed, throwing his abandoned towel expertly into the washing basket. “Do you fancy Camden Lock or Covent Garden for brunch?”

“Actually,” Hermione pulled her lower lip into her mouth. “I’ve always wanted to brunch at The Keeper’s House. Could we? It’s attached to the Royal Academy and I know it’s a boring museum and you probably don’t find muggle artwork interesting, but my mum and dad used to take me all the…” she stopped rambling when Draco cupped her cheek and bent down to kiss her bitten lip.

“We can go wherever you want, Granger.”


End file.
